First Steps
by L. Burke
Summary: Brotherhood AU. The most important steps in life are always the first ones.


Title: First Steps

By: L. Burke

Disclaimer: Too numerous to list. Don't own any of them.

Summary: Brotherhood AU. The most important steps in life are always the first ones.

Warnings: This story contains graphic scenes of a slightly tipsy Jim Murphy, John Winchester as a caring father, touches upon a story with a naked Bobby, and throws around some very bad Christmas carol related puns. Reader discretion is advised.

Merry Christmas, Rid. Thank-you for all your help, support, and patience.

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"You do realize, Jim? This type of behavior slides past oddly eccentric and right into crazy don't you? And to think, I thought I'd come home to find you doing something normal for a change like star gazing with your telescope out on the observation deck."

A quote from "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" was Pastor Jim Murphy's only reply.

_"Well, then, the Cat went on, you see a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad."_

John Winchester sighed and ran a tired hand over his face. "I knew I took that wrong turn in Albuquerque."

"I'm contemplating children, perspective, and paradigm shifts."

"Can I even follow where your river-like mind is meandering with this train of thought without my head exploding?"

"To truly understand a child, sometimes you must step into their world and follow their example."

"Under a bed is Dean's favorite hiding spot when he wants to go to his 'quiet place'."

"Exactly."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "That still doesn't explain why the Guardian of the Brotherhood is hiding under his."

"The Guardian does no such thing. Jim Murphy, on the other hand, is looking for some peace so he can get his Christmas cards written out. We can send a man to the moon and yet we can't invent self-writing Christmas cards? Explain this to me." Jim pulled himself half-way out from under the bed. He looked up and gave his friend a thoughtful look, "Are Christmas cards technically late if you get them mailed by Groundhog's Day?"

John sat down next to the bed and popped the cap on his bottle of beer. "And this led to your safari under the bed how?"

"If you're asking me _that _question, you've obviously haven't had the courage to go to the malls recently. I love the holidays but come get me after the shopping madness is over for another year," Jim grumbled. Pulling out a large stack of Christmas cards out from under the bed, the pastor then asked," How do you politely respond 'Please don't', to a card sent to you saying, 'Hoping to visit this year'?"

"How much have you had to drink tonight, Jim?"

"Just a _wee_ bit of Irish coffee."

"Exactly how much 'Irish' did you put in that coffee? And is a 'wee bit' defined by Mac or by your Grandma Murphy?"

Jim blinked and had to think about his answer. "Not enough. And Grandma Murphy. Why?"

"Because you're writing your Christmas cards out in purple crayon."

"Poison me with a Poinsettia." Jim studied the crayon for a moment, "You think anyone will notice?"

"Okay…" John muttered under his breath. "Maybe I should move on to my next round of questions while you're still reasonably coherent. Why is Caleb grounded? And why has Mac taken my baby hostage as he reads his own version of '_Charlotte's Web' _at the top of his lungs?"

"Caleb muttered the one word that any parent dreads."

"Sex?"

"GED," the pastor informed him. "Mackland was not pleased."

"Well," John replied, "That explains why in Mac's version Charlotte would have survived the upcoming winter if she had only gotten her high school diploma."

"I love both Mackland and Caleb dearly," Jim blurted out. Then he plopped his face in to his pile of Christmas cards. "But tonight they're driving me crazy."

"Caleb has been a little monster since he found out the boys and I would be staying with them for a while. He's jealous of the amount of Mac's time Dean has been requiring. I think Caleb is terrified his father is trying to replace him." John took a sip of his beer. He gave Jim a sympathetic look. "It's not easy going from it being just you and Atticus to suddenly having a house full is it?"

"Tell me about it," the pastor replied. Then looking up and studying his friend Jim asked, "But maybe I should be asking you how you're doing, John? I still recall those first couple of Christmases after losing Emma…"

"Ask me someday when the yellow-eyed bastard is dead, okay?" John replied softly. He began to slowly peel his beer bottle label. "Till then, I'm taking it one day at a time, one step at a time."

"If you need a shoulder…"

"I know."

Jim gestured for John to come a little closer. Then he whispered, like he was giving away all the secrets of the Brotherhood. "I detest _Charlotte's Web_ you know? Charlotte dies at the end."

"I've heard." John replied dryly. "How did your and Dean's adventure at the mall go?"

Jim tried to blow a little glitter from the cards off his nose and sighed, "Better then I feared, but not as well as I hoped. He's been playing his quiet game ever since we came home."

It was John's turn to sigh. "He had one of his panic attacks while you were out?"

"Yes, we had to go sit in the car for a while till it passed."

John then gently reached up and inspected his sleeping son's bandaged wrists and arms. Then he asked, "Dean picked at himself badly enough you needed to bandage him up?"

"I'm afraid so."

Even though the boy was now finally talking. Ever since his mother died Dean had a habit of picking at himself until he bled whenever he got anxious. The worst part was Dean tended to do the worst damage to himself in his sleep. "Ace, what am I going to do with you? Looks like I'm going to have put him in his special mittens when I put him to bed tonight."

"It probably would be a good idea," Jim nodded. "On the other hand, it's first steps in the right direction. He is healing, John. Keep that in mind."

Shooting his friend an angry look and gently laying his son's wrist back on the bed. John growled, "That means what? I have to look forward to going from bandages to nightmares someday?"

"It means," Jim replied softly, "early childhood is supposed to be that magical kingdom where nobody dies. It's a necessary canopy of illusion to help protect a child and give them the time and building blocks they need to grow. Dean had his canopy ripped away brutally and it left huge gaping wounds." Jim looked his friend straight in the eye. "And yes, our next step, when Dean feels safe enough, is probably going to be nightmares and acting out."

John smirked bitterly. "I must be the only parent alive that's actually looking forward to having his son mouth back at him. What was so blasted important that Dean begged you to go to the mall anyway?"

Jim gestured to a bag beside the bed with his head, "Come see. Dean was so proud of himself. He picked the gifts out."

Jon grabbed the bag and looked inside, "'Incredible Live Sea Monkey's and _The Velveteen Rabbit_."

"A pet Caleb could bring to school with him and a new book for us to read to Sammy."

Pulling something out and holding it up, John asked, "And the large bag of peanut M&M's? You're going to spoil him."

"Dean earned them. Right Atticus?"

A muffled bark came from under the bed.

"Really?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "How?"

Looking down at his cards again, Jim cleared his throat, and blushed. "Dean rescued me from Ms. Hanson."

"Widow Hanson?" A big, evil, grin broke across John's face, "The woman is still chasing you? Jim, you stud."

"I'll never be able to look at Mrs. Claus the same way. That woman has grabby hands." Jim reached under the bed again and pulled out a mug and a thermos. Opening the thermos he poured what was left of the contents into his large mug. The pastor then looked in to the mug and then up at John with a puzzled look. "It seems I forgot to put the coffee in my whiskey. How did I manage that?"

"Exactly how much of the good stuff have you had tonight?"

"After having Mrs. Claus trying to jingle my bells in the middle of the toy store, not _nearly_ enough."

"John? Jim?" A voice called from the hallway.

"Speaking of a child acting out," Jim sighed softly.

John quickly stuffed Dean's gifts under the bed. "In here."

Jim once again tried unsuccessfully to blow the remaining glitter from his nose. "Caleb's grounded to his room for calling his father a prick. He shouldn't be out."

"Don't worry. I've got it covered."

It was Jim's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I'm letting you take point tonight, Sergeant. You screw this up and I'm covering your sorry six with the Bobby in the cannibal stew pot story."

"Let's hold off permanently scarring the boy." John replied dryly. "We still have years to accomplish that. Let me try something a little more lucid and a lot less disgusting first. Taking in to account we all try to forget Bobby's contribution to_ that_ meal."

"It's one time we could truthfully say 'the secret's in the sauce'."

"John?" Caleb's form suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I thought I heard you come in."

John gestured towards the bed, "Park it, and don't wake Dean." John waited until Caleb carefully climbed up on the bed. "Let's be straight with one another. Okay? Just drop the teenage, angst-filled bullshit. I'm too tired to deal with it tonight. I heard you managed to royally piss-off your old man. What's this G.E.D crap?"

The head-to-toe, black clad, teenager crossed his arms over his chest. "I hate school. I hate the kids there. In another two years I can take the GED test and get the hell out of there. I told dad that. He freaked. My father's a prick. End of story." Caleb rolled his eyes, "Let me guess? Your high school years were wonderful. You played football. I'm going to ruin my life."

John took a sip of his beer, "God, no. I hated every damned minute of high school. Hell, half the crap they forced me to learn I don't even remember. My grades were so bad I nearly didn't graduate. Jim was the same way."

"These cannibals had Bobby tied-up, naked in this huge stew pot..." Jim started.

"Jim," John growled.

"Fine," the pastor responded, "It's true. I detested high school. I cut class. I preferred to be outside in the sunshine, not sitting in a musty classroom. I didn't pursue my college degrees until years later."

Caleb's gold eyes lit up hopefully, "So you understand?"

"Wanting to fly the bird to the educational system and everyone in it?" John replied. "Hell yes. But Jim and I both sucked it up and got our diploma.

"Barely," the pastor chimed in.

"And I'll tell you why," John continued. "Honor, when you melt it down, isn't all about that 'all-for-one' crap movies and books feed you. It's about following through and finishing what you start. Hell, graduating isn't even really about the crappy certificate. It's about taking those first steps at forging the man you're hoping to become, Caleb. Think long and hard about the decisions you make and type of person you want him to be."

"That…" Jim stared in shock. "That… actually sounded… astute. What have you done with the real John Winchester?"

Rolling his eyes, John replied sarcastically, "I impaled him on a stake of holly and left him in the Grinch's cave for Max to chew on."

"But Max was a good dog. He certainly didn't deserve that old, tough, and nasty tasting roast beast," the pastor replied.

"Old?" John demanded indigently. "For that remark, Grandpa, next time you've been drinkin' way too much eggnog. You'd better hope Mackland keeps you from stumbling out the door in to the snow."

"Would you like me to politely suggest where you can stuff your shining star upon the highest bough?"

Caleb was silently absorbing what John said for few moments and listening to the two older hunters banter. "I'll think about it."

"Good." John nodded looking the boy straight in the eye. "That's all we ask. Otherwise hold Jim and me up as warnings and not examples. But if I _ever_ hear you called your father a prick again, I'll kick your ass myself. Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir," the teen replied.

"Why isn't Caleb in his room?" The voice of Mackland Ames demanded from the doorway. In his arms was a happily chattering Samuel Winchester.

"Because he's in here with us," Jim said simply.

John took a sip from his beer bottle and shrugged. "Caleb and I were talking."

Mac narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Funny. I didn't hear any yelling down stairs."

Jim nodded, "It's true. If John's talk went badly, I was planning on swooping in with the Bobby in the stew pot story."

Mac gave them a horrified look and hugged Sammy a little tighter to him. "Why would you two purposely choose to traumatize an adolescent like that?"

"Matter of honor, Mac," John replied matter-of-fact.

Caleb gave his father a big-eyed look. "I'm scared, Dad. The story starts with a naked Bobby."

Right then Sammy spotted his sleeping brother on the bed. The toddler started squirming in Mac's arms. Then he started demanding "Eeen" and "Oown". The doctor gently lowered the baby to the floor. Sammy started slowly crawling his way to the bed and his brother.

"Would you rather we take the boy out in the woods and drill him till he drops?" John asked his friend bluntly. "We could do that instead."

Jim nodded. Then he added in sweetly. "John could easily show Caleb what a 'prick' really is."

"Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays," John fired back sarcastically. "It's nice to know we have at least one turkey around to help make the season bright."

"Would you like me to offer you a few simple phrases?" Jim retorted.

"Exactly how much have you two had to drink tonight?" The doctor sputtered. "And drills in the woods would be preferable to inflicting the psychological trauma of Bobby's secret ingredient."

Jim looked over at John, "It is the holidays."

Snorting, John replied, "So?"

"Maybe we should go easy on the boy this one time? What do you think Atticus?" Jim called to the dog under the bed.

The canine in question stuck his nose out from under the bed and barked.

"Damn it," John grumbled. "You two softies always out vote me."

"Indeed," Jim said. "It looks like Caleb drills in the woods then."

Mac shot all of them an exasperated look. "I believe I just got played."

"Played? Why would you ever think that?" Jim asked innocently.

"No reason at all," Mackland replied dryly. Then noticing the little boy on the bed was awake, the doctor smiled and said, "Dean."

The boy signed his reply in sign language.

"I see Dean's playing his quiet game tonight," Mac replied as he signed his reply back. Mackland had taught the boy sign language during the time Dean refused to speak to anyone. It had been a desperate, unconventional, and last ditch effort to get Dean to communicate. His reasoning at the time had been if Dean would not speak verbally maybe he'd start to communicate by another medium.

Dean got down off the bed, and climbed on to his father's lap. "Hey Champ," John said gently as Dean snuggled closer.

Right then Sammy slapped Jim on the nose playfully. The pastor grinned, "Hello, Samuel. I was wondering when you'd join us."

"So," Caleb asked, "How'd the mall go?"

Gesturing with his hands Dean started his story.

Caleb's eyes widened. "You saw Jim kissing Mrs. Claus?"

"On the lips?" Mac blinked in shock and leaned in closer. "In the middle of the toy store?"

"Jim, you old horndog," Caleb exclaimed.

"I see, she had mistletoe," Mac stated looking down at Jim cheerfully. "Did she try to deck his halls too?"

Atticus barked and then covered his eyes with his paws.

"Et tu, Brute?" Jim groused at the dog.

"What can you say? Jim still got it boys," John added in. His dark eyes were gleaming evilly. "Or at least Ms. Hanson still thinks so."

"Why can't you ever find one of those hit-and-run reindeer when you need to throw yourself under one?" the Pastor grumbled. "And Dean, it's not polite to pass tales."

"Ignore him," Caleb fired back gleefully. "Pass the tales. Give us all the juicy details. Inquiring minds want to know."

"John, look" Mac suddenly announced quietly motioning towards Sammy.

While they had been teasing Jim, Sammy used the bedspread to pull himself up on his feet. Holding on to the bed with only one hand, the baby tilted his head and looked at all of them with a thoughtful expression.

"Sammy?" Dean asked softly and scurried out of his father's lap.

John bent his knees up for more room. Then he asked his youngest son,"You thinking of letting go of the bed and taking your first steps, Kiddo?"

Jim in one smooth, careful, move pulled himself out from under the bed. "Caleb, get the camera in my bedside table."

Caleb grabbed the camera out of the drawer and threw it to his father. "Here Dad. You have the best angle."

Mac pointed the camera. "Come along, Samuel. You've been stubbornly teasing us for quite some time."

"Eeen?" Sammy asked.

Dean held his arms out. "Don't worry. I'll catch you."

While Mac snapped the picture, Sammy, smiling, let go of the bed and took his first stumbling steps in to his older brother's waiting arms.

John didn't say anything. Instead, he scooped his boys up in to a bear hug. If his dark eyes were a little shiner than normal, he wasn't alone.

Sammy squirmed, looked into his brother's eyes and said, "Eeen, udding."

Dean laid his head on his father's shoulder, "Sammy wants pudding."

Chuckling softly John muttered, "I think we can arrange that."

"Excellent idea, Samuel," Jim announced clapping his hands together and climbing to his feet. "What flavor should I make?"

"Chocolate," John and Caleb chimed in.

"Vanilla," Mac fired back.

Atticus climbed out from under the bed. Then he sat down by Mac, and barked, putting his vote in.

"You're just voting that way because you know Samuel will give you most of his," Jim groused at the dog.

Atticus barked again.

"Why does the dog even get a vote?" John asked.

"He always does, "Caleb replied. "So does Sal the spider. He lives in the living room, despite my numerous attempts on his life with the vacuum cleaner."

"Spider?" Mac asked, "As in insect?"

Jim nodded. "It only seems fair to give Sal a vote since he keeps outsmarting, Bailey."

"Bailey?" John asked.

"He's a bat," Dean whispered to his father.

"Bat as in flying, disease-carrying rodent?" Mac demanded. "You let a bat wander around your house?"

"Bailey hardly wanders," Jim replied calmly. "He knows exactly where's he's going."

"Bailey stops by every once in a while and tries to eat, Sal." Caleb informed them matter-of-fact.

"Dean," Jim announced turning the subject back to pudding, "Looks like you're the tie breaker."

Dean was silent for a few moments before muttering in to his father's shoulder, "Butterscotch."

"Well then," Jim declared as he leaped to his feet, "Looks like the Butterscotches have it."

Atticus woofed enthusiastically and raced out the bedroom door headed for the kitchen.

"I'm never going to see blueberry pancakes am I?" Caleb grumbled. "Sal keeps voting chocolate-chip with Dean."

"My advice, kid", John informed him, "Is to simply suck it up."

Suddenly there were scratching sounds from the kitchen. Jim bolted for the door. "Atticus! What have I told you about staying out of the refrigerator?"

Mac exchanged a look with John and then asked, "Do you ever feel like you've fallen…"

"Through Merlin's cottage roof?" John finished for him as he hugged his boys a little tighter.

"Precisely."

John eyed the doorway Jim Murphy just exited. Then he looked at Mac, shook his head and replied; "Only everyday since my ring was handed to me. I thought wizards were supposed to have cats as familiars?"

Jim Murphy walked into his living room headed for the kitchen. He stopped and smiled when his eyes fell on his Christmas Nativity scene. There before him were the three wise magi Balthazar, Melchior, Casper. Thinking of the magi's epic journey guided by nothing but a star and the courage it must have taken. Jim was reminded of the boys upstairs. That all first steps require three things.

Them being: Hope, courage, and faith.


End file.
